Take The Long Way Home
by jenajasper
Summary: She came into their lives by chance
1. Chapter 1

Dean's eyes were burning; he should have stopped to rest hours ago. But, he was going somewhere he wanted to be, no, needed to be, really badly. He took a quick glance at his younger brother, who was just as tired. Sam had his head back and his eyes closed.

They had been working non-stop, even losing track of time and place. It was Sam who realized how close they were. They hadn't been there in months, a year? At the revelation, they looked at each other and without another word, Dean took the next left and drove toward the interstate.

They recalled the first time they met her.

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She said, "Bobby, you told me children. These are babies!"

Dean peeked from behind Bobby's leg without letting go and looked up at the woman. 'I'm not a baby', he thought to himself as he gave her the best or worst scowl available to a five year old. He didn't speak aloud.

She reached out and Bobby handed Sam to her. Dean squeezed Bobby's leg tighter and raised his face toward him without ever taking his eyes off his brother. He didn't think he liked her but, then she smiled at him and it all changed.

That was the first memory Dean had of her so, of course, since Sam was too young, it was Sam's memory too.

She had come to Bobby in answer to his emergency call. John had dropped the boys off and other hunters needed more of Bobby's attention than he could comfortably divert from young Sam and Dean. So, he had put out the call and she was close enough to help.

She wasn't a hunter but, she was in the life. Her husband and brother had been killed and since then, she had made a life for herself doing for other hunters what she had once done for her family.

She was only forty miles away when Bobby called. At first, she was unaware of whose children he had at his home. She didn't have any of her own and she never hesitated. She knew John Winchester's story, of course, and although they had never met, she wasn't sure how she felt about the life he had made for them.

She cradled the baby, Sam, in her arms and noticed how Dean's eyes followed. She smiled at him. He was a beautiful little boy.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam was a good baby, well behaved, happy, never crying. He only ever came close when he woke from a nap and didn't see Dean. She watched as he slowly scanned the room. He would see her, pause, almost smiling and then continue to search.

If he didn't see Dean, he would take that big breath, that babies do, before they let loose. Even as he prepared to cry, before he attempted that first exhalation of air, she heard the patter of Dean's quick step.

Then he would enter the room in Sam's line of sight, always, and he would smile. Sam released the air with a sigh or a giggle and the letter "D". It was the first thing he said and it was always the first thing he would ever say.

She watched this phenomenon and never tired of it. She had never seen a child take so much responsibility. She could see that Sam would never want for love and care. That even in this life he would be kept safe. But, she wondered, who would care for Dean?

She loved that boy. In fact, she loved them both. But, Dean had grabbed her heart with his need to love and be loved. She felt she could never forgive John for forcing his son to grow up so fast. Responsible for a baby when he was just a baby himself. As long as she lived, Dean would have a friend in her and she would hide the ugliness of this life as much as she was able.

She stayed the night, that first visit, tucking the boys in together, in the same bed, as if she knew them.

In the morning, she woke them with a smile and a light kiss on the forehead. Then she took them downstairs to breakfast.

When she left, she held Sam for a minute and then handed him to Dean and she smiled. She bent down to hand him the baby and said, "You will always have a home with me."

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Sam and Dean took the exit for the beach then made the right. It was less than five miles to the next junction and the arrival at each one, raised their level of anticipation. They had stopped for breakfast hours ago and, at this point, their metabolism had eaten up all of their energy. But, they had decided that they wouldn't stop until they got there.


	3. Chapter 3

She was the sister of a friend, of an uncle to a cousin of an inlaw, or not. They had tried to figure it out once but, all that came of it was more confusion and a headache. This she kindly treated with a soft, cold cloth.

Over the next several years, until their father felt they were old enough to be left on their own, she often cared for them. Most of the time she was at Bobby's place but, on occasion, they found her waiting with Pastor Jim.

They thought back to the first time they went to her.

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They were on a job, an unfortunate miscalculation of a job, and Dean paid the price. He had to be the sacrifice; he had to protect his little brother. Now, it was Sam's job to fix him. This was the part Dean always forgot.

His injuries weren't life threatening or requiring any standard medical attention. He was suffering the after effects of a spell and needed a private place to let it play out.

According to the lore, Dean's behavior would be normal in about forty eight hours. However, the random fits of ranting and destruction would never be tolerated in any public place.

Sam called Bobby. They were days away from him so, he directed them somewhere closer. It was secluded and there would be someone there to help. They could take care of themselves, Sam told him. Then Bobby spoke her name.

Sam and Dean both smiled the whole ride there. Well, not the whole ride. There was a short break when Dean had to get out of the car to scream at the top of his lungs while he ripped a mile marker from the side of the road.

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It was a meeting place but, not like the Roadhouse and other similar places. It was bright and warm and comfortable. It was a home. And hunters congregated there. They had boisterous conversations about baseball, politics, even the weather. They talked about anything and everything but never the work.

If there was a mention of monsters, the talk went outside; that was a house rule. In fact, that's how Dean picked up smoking. Standing in the backyard, under the trees, beer in hand, talking shop with the older hunters.

She fed them, washed their clothes and nursed their wounds. She gave them all a safe place to be. Evil never entered there.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean turned off the main highway and after a short drive, on to a one lane blacktop barely wide enough for the Impala to share. The brothers knew they were announcing themselves as the engine roared through the silence of the small community.

Sam could see the two utility poles that framed the driveway. As Dean carefully made the turn, the house came into view from behind the border of trees. It was a rambling brick ranch, the result of many architectural additions over the years. It was home to a large family, related and not.

This had always been a safe haven for hunters. No one knew how it was done but, nothing evil ever disturbed them.

Sam and Dean could see the old green pick up truck peeking out from the garage on the side of the house. Sam watched his brother fidget in his seat. He looked like a kid on Christmas and Sam was just as excited.

As they neared the building. the front door opened and she was there. She waved a dishtowel, in greeting, and leaving the door ajar, went back inside.

The brothers looked at each other as the car came to a stop. They realized her actions meant only one thing. Something was in the oven. They jumped out of the car so quickly, Dean almost forgot to turn off the ignition.

Sam and Dean stepped over the threshold and stopped, the aroma from the kitchen overwhelming them both. As they had done, in the past, they took the large corner room at the back of the house, furthest from the road, furthest from the rest of the world.

They ate and they rested and they sat out in the sun or in the cool night air drinking beer and even a tall ice cold lemonade. Maybe they did a few odd jobs. Dean tinkered with everything mechanical and Sam had an almost Zen-like experience painting and repainting.

She couldn't do enough for them. And she never asked for them to work. It wasn't necessary to ask. This felt like home to them. And this made her happy.

At night, they slept under soft, matching homemade quilts and crisp white sheets. And on the shared bedside table between them sat Dean's extra slice of pie and Sam's more sensible bottle of water.

The brothers fell asleep as the soft breeze ruffled the jasmine scented curtains.


End file.
